“Haaaaaappy biiiiirthdaaay to youuuuuuuuu,” we finished singing to my son on his BIG one-year birthday. I looked at all the smiling faces of our family wishing my son a happy birthday from a computer screen. My son’s first birthday was “celebrated,” but not in the way that I had hoped or imagined.
Baby Boy’s one-year birthday party ended up being a Zoom call. Originally, I had been happy and at peace with the decision made while we were sheltering in place. Well, there really was no other option, so I thought to celebrate Baby Boy’s birthday virtually would fill my heart.
But his birthday came, a quick phone call with our families went, and just like that…
Our precious baby boy turned one…the end.
“Did you have fun? Did that feel like a birthday to you?” I desperately asked my mom the next day. I wanted justification that we had recognized a big milestone sufficiently. “We celebrated our sweet little boy, but I feel so…sad.”
I thought revelations would open my mind to see my baby boy in a different way. But an almost-celebration makes me feel like we missed something… I had been huffing and puffing to the top of a hill. I was trying to prove to myself and Baby Boy that we were capable and independent as mother and son.
And when it was time for his virtual birthday, the “party” was like pulling a pin from a pin cushion. Do you know how unsatisfying that is for a one-year birthday? You’re left holding a push pin with no sweet release.
I wanted to pull a cork from a champagne bottle and hear the explosive pop of celebration and expectations being fulfilled on his one-year birthday. I longed to physically hug everyone who had championed us on the full year. To wrap my arms around each person’s neck and hold tight. Eating, drinking, and merry-making, I desired to throw my head back and laugh at funny stories of the past year (you know, the ones we cried at but can now laugh about).
Instead, I was staring at a screen of all those we loved watching my son cram banana in his face. We giggled at how far he had come in his eating abilities, but when we hung up, I cried.
This was not how I pictured celebrating my son’s birthday.
A whole year climaxed with a Zoom call to our families.
A Zoom call had not quite fulfilled the party “expectation” I had for my son. We were celebrating not only our son but our accomplishments of diaper changes and late-night feedings. We had finally reached the Mom and Dad Hall of Surrender, and now it was our turn to be inducted. I wanted to drink a glass of some adult beverage to commemorate exclusively breastfeeding my son for a whole year. A year of saying many more no’s than yes’s.
I wanted my “mom” accomplishments to be recognized and acknowledged. This was the big “end of the year” company party! I wanted to put my son on my shoulders. And holding my husband’s hand with my son, we could laugh and celebrate all that we had been through and overcome. We did it!
But Baby Boy’s circle around the sun would end a bit differently.
As we closed the first year of our baby boy’s life, the second year rotated right into place. Day one of our second year started right at midnight on day 365. No period or pause for reflection. And ultimately no real party with our loved ones. I wrote about our celebration in the midst of a crisis, but I can’t deny the fact that I was sad. That I AM sad.
My joyful son didn’t know any better, but I did.
And you know what?
As Sven encourages his buddy Kristoff in Frozen 2, “You feel what you feel, and those feelings are real…C’mon [Emily], let down your guaaaard,” I am allowed to feel cheated, sad, angry, any and all the emotions that are pulsing through my veins. Recognizing that the ending of Baby Boy’s first year was anti-climactic in terms of a party, I cried to my husband, I cried to my mom, and I cried the whole week later. Even though I don’t want to dwell too long on sad or bitter feelings (because I’m an enneagram 9, and I can spend FOREVER dwelling on the past), I do want to acknowledge and name my feelings.
Now?
I am able to move forward. We’re adding up all the celebrations that we will need to celebrate in person when we are able. Our family is not the only one experiencing these dilemmas.
If you are having to celebrate huge milestones away from loved ones, it’s ok to feel let down and acknowledge that this whole situation really sucks. Don’t hold it in and try to put on a smiling face if all you really want to do is lash out and cry. Lord knows I cried… big ol’ tears that ran down my face. A baby turning the big ONE is a BIG DEAL.
So, while you’re feeling all the feelings, here’s my virtual cheers to you, mama, whatever you are celebrating. And please, celebrate to your fullest potential. Pop that bottle like you mean it and pour me a glass! Cheers!
